


The Infamous

by NavigationByAtlas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and Lance are Siblings, BAMF Lance, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Explicit Language, Hunk (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk has tattoos, Insults, Keith likes to wear femme things, Kinda, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Mafia Lance, Pining Hunk (Voltron), Slurs, Violence, i rly like lance can u tell, i wrote this instead of updating my 20457349 other lance stories, keith doesnt really have a label for his sexuality he just Catches Feelings sometimes, lance does too, no especially important ones tho, ocs for small bits, update on the pairing: klunk is endgame ;0, yeet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:24:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NavigationByAtlas/pseuds/NavigationByAtlas
Summary: Five years ago, when Lance's mother died, Leoncio took up the family business. With that, he took on the financing, the expanding, and the employees. He also took on the coverups, the "dirty work", and everything else that came with being a Boss. Now, people are starting to find out it's him. People that weren't supposed to know.





	1. One

**_There were things_ ** about Lance that few people knew. He liked to spend money on his friends, he liked to see them laugh at his jokes, he knew a guy for everything, and he has more blood on his hands than even his ex-military acquaintance, Takashi, who’s been through two tours despite being only in his late thirties. Even if anyone were to find thee things out, it’d be hard for them to believe. How could happy-go-lucky Leoncio Raphael Rosario Saldaña possibly be a killer? He couldn’t hurt a fly.

Lance had kept this side of his life a secret for a _long_ time. In fact, not even his oldest friend Hunk knew about his “family business”. Of course, he’d wanted to share that part of himself. He wanted to give a proper explanation to the scars littering his body, or why he’d disappear for days or weeks at a time without notice. But he was in charge of things now, and he couldn’t compromise that. No matter how much he wanted to.

 

///

 

 **_Keith was sat_ ** alone in a crowded bar, sighing into a drink that wasn’t as alcoholic as he’d like. Shiro was nowhere to be found, likely having slipped away with the pretty white-haired girl he’d been talking to lately. Now, Keith was by his lonesome, slumped over a half-drained glass. Someone slid up beside him, ordering a drink that sounded fruity and exotic.

The stranger has a slight accent to his voice, one Keith was surprised to notice in his somewhat inebriated state. He rolled his _r_ ’s ever so slightly, enunciating his vowels, speaking smoothly like melted butter or molten lava. The sound was just as hot, too. When Keith chanced a glance up, aiming to put a face to the voice, he froze in shock. He recognized that face.

Blue eyes twinkled with mirth as the man shot a playful wink at the bartender. They chuckled back, as though familiar with this person’s antics, and responded with a friendly comment. Full lips quirked up into a smile at the bartender’s response, but Keith didn’t hear what it was, too enthralled with the man before him: the expanse of smooth mocha skin, the oh-so-soft looking curls of dark hair, the faint dimples accompanying the confident smile.

Keith recognized the man as Lance Saldaña, someone he knew in high school, more or less. More like he’d pined from afar for three years from behind a fabricated hatred for the boy. Now, here he was, sitting beside him at a back alley bar. Those striking blue eyes glanced over, and Keith was caught.

“See something you like?” Lance asked, and Keith fumbled for an answer. Lance giggled- honest-to-God _giggled_ , at Keith’s mortification. “I’m teasing. The name’s Lance and you’re…” he thought for a moment. “Keith. Keith Kogane, if my memory serves.” Keith could only nod dumbly, caught up with the schoolgirl thoughts of “ _he remembered my name!”_

Lance turned in his seat, facing Keith fully now and making it quite clear that the conversation, one-sided as it was, was going to continue.

“So, Kogane,” Keith loved the way his name sounded in that small accent, “What’s a pretty boy like you doing here all on your own?” Lance asked, mischief in those breathtaking eyes.

“Just enjoying a drink. Not all that different from you,” Keith said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. Lance smiled; clearly, his attempts were in vain. He continued anyway. “What about you, what’s a man like you here for?” Lance wet his lips, considering his response.

“I’m here looking for someone,” he decided on. Keith gave him a questioning look. “Someone like you,” he finished, throwing a wink Keith’s way. Keith choked on his words, face aflame, but Lance wasn’t done. “So, how about it, Cielo? Wanna have some fun? Or better yet…” _Better than the rather_ suggestive _fun_ _?_ Keith wondered. Lance pulled a napkin towards himself, producing a pen from one of his pockets, and scribbling something down. He slid the napkin over to Keith and, with another wink and brush of his fingers over the back if Keith’s hand, he was gone.

Keith glanced down at the napkin. One corner had a partial ring of wetness where Lance’s glass had been. On it was a phone number and below that: “ _Let me take you out sometime. I promise I’ll treat you nice. -Lance”_

Keith grinned stupidly to himself. Maybe he’d have to take Lance up on that offer.

 

///

 

 **_Lance got home_ ** at approximately 10:45 that night. Sighing, he tossed his jacket over his plush, cushiony couch and slumped down beside it, letting his tired eyes slip shut. Moments later, a knock sounded at his door. Lance opened an eye lazily, standing up at a snail’s pace. The knock sounded again, more vigorous this time.

“ _Aye, dios_ , I’m coming! Hold your horses!” He shouted, his lazy shuffle becoming brisker. He reached the door just as his visitor began knocking again and swung the door open roughly, nearly taking a stray fist to the face for his irritation. He ducked neatly out of the way, a sharp insult on his lips, and then caught sight of his guest. The words died on his tongue. “ _Hunk?”_

 

///

 

 **_“Hunk?” Lance asked_ ** voice barely a whisper. His best friend was standing at his front door, looking panicked and close to tears. Lance ushered him inside. “Talk to me, what’s the matter?” He asked, settling Hunk down on the couch. It was strange to him, to see Hunk appear out of nowhere at his house of all places. Lance hadn’t even been sure that he’d remembered where it was.

“Lance, what is it that you do, exactly?” Hunk asked, voice weak. Lance started; in all the time he’d known Hunk, he’d only ever been asked about his work once, and the lie had come easy.

“You already know, Hunk, I’m a waiter at that caf--”

“Don’t lie to me.” Lance sighed. He supposed he’d have to tell his friend sooner or later, though he preferred the latter. _Though_ , he thought, _I guess later is now._

“I… run a very delicate business. One that’s been in the family for generations now. Since _mamá_ passed, I’ve taken the lead on it,” he said, choosing his words carefully. He chanced a glance at Hunk, only to find the other man staring at him, looking rather tired. Hunk nodded, prompting Lance to continue. Begrudgingly, he did. “Mom… she ran the business well but… there were- are people that had certain, um, _qualms_ about her work and how she did it; my work now. When she died… she wasn’t mugged. That story we told everyone was a lie, a coverup to keep them off our backs. She wasn’t shot in a back alley over a couple bucks and her gold chain necklace. She wasn't killed by coincidence.”

Hunk considered him for a moment. Finally, he said, “Okay, that explains a lot. But that doesn’t tell me why someone showed up at my apartment demanding to know about _Leoncio Saldaña._ How did he know your real name? I thought you didn’t tell anybody that.” Lance gnawed his lip, knitting his eyebrows together nervously.

“Because that’s the name I use in the, mm, family business. All connections to that part of my life are made under the name Leoncio. I wanted… I told everyone else a different name to keep you all separate from it. To keep you safe,” he added, looking Hunk in the eye as he did so.

“To keep us safe from what? What business could your family possibly be in that you need to keep your closest friend safe from it?” Hunk asked, eyes pleading for the truth.

“My family… I run the Rosario mafia.”

 

///

 

 **_Lance cursed the_ ** very essence of life itself for what he’d had to tell Hunk today. He’d vowed, promised himself that he would keep the people he loved away from this, from everything. He’d told himself that Hunk or anybody would never know of his secret actions or his private meetings. But now that promise was broken, and he stared as emotions waged a war behind his best friend’s eyes for a moment before he could speak.

“You _what?_ ” Hunk whispered, voice breaking. “You’re joking, you have to be! That mafia has been wanted for nearly twenty years now! I’ve _seen_ the reports on what they’ve done! You can’t be a part of it!”

“Hunk, look--” Lance tried, but Hunk interrupted.

“You can’t be serious. You have to be joking. This isn’t you, Lance, I _know_ you. You wouldn’t… You can’t…” Hunk’s voice trailed off and his shoulders slumped. Tears streamed over his full cheeks, plopping down onto his shirt. Lance reached out a hand to comfort his friend but hesitated. What if Hunk hated him for this? He couldn’t blame the man if he did. And of course, that would be better than the alternative, where Hunk is roped into this life and hurt, but still… The idea wasn’t pleasant either way.

Just as Hunk's hiccups were beginning to simmer down to sniffles, another knock sounded at the door. By the sound of the insistent banging on the door, whoever it was, they weren't happy. Lance scowled. Now what? As he stood to make his way to the door, he patted Hunk’s shoulder, muttering for him to wait there. He vaguely heard Hunk gasp as Lance pulled a small pistol out of the waistband of his jeans that the larger man clearly hadn’t been aware of.

Lance moved towards the door slowly and cautiously, never taking his eyes off of it, and when he finally got there, he hesitated in touching the handle. Finally, he opened the door a few inches.

“Yes?” He asked, making his tone light and pleasant. A hum sounded.

“Leoncio Saldaña?” A man asked. Lance nodded through the small space between the door and frame. The man smirked. “I’m Nathan McGinnis, and I’d like to have a little chat.”

 

///

 

 **_The man, McGinnis_** , gave Lance little choice if the barrel between his eyes was anything to go by. Glaring all the while, Lance stepped back only enough to open the door and invite his “guest” inside. The smirk never left McGinnis’ face. It was as though he was under the impression that he’d already won. Lance allowed himself a smile at that, though he disguised it as a nervous one.

“Hunk, we have a guest. This is Nathan McGinnis. Say hi, would you, Nate?” Lance said as sarcastically as he dared with the gun still trained on him at point-blank range.

“So, you’re a friend of the infamous Leoncio Saldaña, are you? Hunk, was it?” The man asked, not really asking. He didn’t take his eyes off of Lance. “My, I didn’t know Leoncio himself even _had_ a weakness like _friends_. You know about _my_ friends, don't you?” Lance glared. He knew where this was going. “The friends you put in the ground. Do you remember them? It was exactly one week ago if I recall.” Lance grimaced. Hunk was silent behind him. It was almost worse than if he wasn't.

“Of course I remember. Natalie and Masha, right? They were a quite rude company to keep, I must admit. I mean, can you blame me? I think staring down a barrel would be off-putting to just about anyone,” he said, a small challenge in his tone and he stared the other man in the eye. Nathan hesitated, long enough for Lance to take control.

In what seemed to Hunk to be one fluid moment, over almost too fast for him to really see what happened, Lance had the man pinned under his knee and the gun skidding away across the room to stop just before Hunk’s feet.

“Hunk,” Lance said, snapping his friend out of his shocked daze, “do me a favor and empty the cartridge? The last thing we need is that gun going off, especially with one of us in its sights.” Hunk only nodded and did as he was asked. Come to think of it, Lance was the one to teach him about firearms. He’d called it a hobby, and dragged hunk to the range plenty of times. “ _In case you ever need to defend yourself,”_ he’d said. Hunk hadn’t thought much of it then.

“Now then, Mr. McGinnis, care to join us for a little late-night meal?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall! i know, its been a hot second since the first chapter, im sorry for the wait! ive been a bit busy lately, but at long last the chapter is here! thanks to all of you for your patience <3

**_Nathan McGinnis was_ ** not a very nice man, Lance noted. He was rude and tended to test the limits of Lance’s hospitality. Lance was willing to let it slide for a while, but then the man made a comment he just couldn’t let slide. 

“So, the great Leoncio’s one weakness is a blubbering, flustered  _ fatass? _ ” Nathan said, and Lance’d had enough. He paused in his pacing where he was behind Nathan, and without a word he slammed the man’s face down onto the table. He gripped McGinnis’ hair tightly and yanked his head back, leaning over the man’s shoulders as he forced him to face Hunk directly. 

“What was that, kind sir?” Lance asked sweetly, voice laced with venom.

“I think you broke my nose!” Nathan exclaimed though it came out more like  _ “I thing you broge my nobe!” _ Lance smiled. 

“That isn’t the answer I was looking for,” he said and slammed the man’s face down again. “Now. Mr. McGinnis, I think you owe my friend an apology, don’t you?” McGinnis whimpered, a pitiful sound coming from such an intimidatingly built man, and Lance took that as his agreeance. “Good. Now, what do we say?”

The man made a small noise at the back of his throat and Lance tightened his hold on his hair. “If you’d rather not say it, I am more than willing to find an alternative, Mr. McGinnis. But I think you’ll prefer this. Now,” Lance said, voice hardening, “apologize.”

Nathan did, in a whisper. Just barely, he managed three small words, “I’m sorry, Hunk.” The words were quiet and sounded garbled thanks to Nathan’s undoubtedly mangled nose and probably missing teeth, but were said nonetheless. Lance’s smile returned to his face. 

“Now, was that so hard? All is forgiven,” he said. Lance let go of his guest’s hair and resumed his pacing. Now, when he did it, McGinnis glanced back and forth nervously, too afraid to move more than cradling his broken face yet desperate to keep track of Lance’s movements.

///

 

**_Hunk watched the_ ** display rather quietly. He didn’t speak nor interrupt, though he flinched quite a bit both times Nathan’s face came into contact with the table, each time leaving behind a nasty splatter of blood and drool. He mostly stared blankly at his friend. He’d known Lance since, well, forever. He had so many memories with him. How could he have never known  _ this _ ?

Hunk’s eyes traced the path Lance took, back and forth and back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. He swayed his body animatedly, swinging around his legs as he pivoted on his heel to go back the way he came. It was mesmerizing, almost, the repetitive motions. 

But the most noticeable thing about the entire encounter regarding his best bro in a mafia ( _leading it_ , no less!) and a bloodied intruder for the sake of protecting him, is that it was _kinda_ _hot._ The realization sent chills down Hunk’s spine. Never in a million years would he have imagined he’d find his closest friend… sexually attractive, and especially not due to _these_ conditions. Hunk was shocked by it, honestly, and hardly noticed when Lance sent the man on his way with not so much as an ice pack for his face. 

He was at Hunk’s side a moment after the door was locked. There were a considerable number of locks that Hunk hadn’t noticed the last time he was here. Lance knelt down beside his friend. Coaxing him to look at him.

“Hunk, buddy, you with me? Damn, I went and scared you didn’t I? I’m sorry, that was a bit intense for your first experience…” Lance trailed off as Hunk got continuously redder. “Hunk? Are you alright?” Lance reached for Hunk’s face, and the larger man chose that moment to bolt out of the chair, nearly toppling Lance in the process. 

“Yep! I’m fine, right as rain, all’s well! 100 percent here, bud, all good. Definitely,” Hunk finished his somewhat hysterical spiel.  _ Dear God, _ Lance thought.  _ I’ve broken Hunk! _

 

///

 

**_Keith had been_ ** debating for about three hours. The thin, fragile paper was crumpled in his hand and clutched close to his chest as the man was unceremoniously sprawled upside-down on his couch. Honestly, he really didn’t need the paper anymore; he’d long since put the number into his phone under a cutesy nickname with various heart emojis. But he couldn’t bring himself to be rid of the paper. 

Instead, he held it as though it would float away if he didn't grip it with all his strength. What was the rule? Wait three days before calling, right? Was there a rule like that for texts? A simple “hello” couldn’t hurt. Gathering all his resolve before it dissipated for the hundredth time, Keith typed out a simple, curt message:

 

Keith> Hey. It’s Keith.

 

And he waited.

 

///

 

**_Lance got the_ ** message at the most inopportune time. He’d just managed to settle down his best friend with a nice cup of coffee and a soft blanket on the couch when a loud  _ ding! _ resounded through the room, startling Hunk.

“Shit-!” He shouted, starting and splashing coffee on his lap in the process. “Sorry, Lance, I’ll go clean this up. I, uh, just… Yeah.” Hunk stood and shuffled off. 

“You've still got clothes here if you need them, bud. In the linen closet,” Lance called after him. He picked up his phone, glancing down at the screen with a heavy sigh, realizing just how long he and Hunk had been awake. By now it was nine in the morning, and neither of the boys had slept a wink.  _ Oh well _ , Lance figured.  _ Might as well start the day. _

 

Lance> hey, cielo. hows your morning treating you?

Keith> Well enough. How about you?

 

Lance chuckled at the perfect punctuation. It seemed Keith wasn’t a profuse texter.

 

Lance> better now that youre here ;)

Lance> im glad you texted. i was a bit nervous if im being honest

Keith> Nervous for what?

Lance> that date, of course. if youre still feeling up to it


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO another chapter is done! This one's a little more on the filler side, but some important words are said and Lance's fashion sense is described. That date is drawing nearer~! As you can tell, I have no schedule or sense of consistency, so my updates are a bit sporadic. Thanks for sticking with it so far anyway!
> 
> -Atlas

**_Keith hadn’t realized_ ** that Lance would want to take him out so soon. He’d figured it would be the next week or a few days later or some such. He hadn’t really known _what_ to expect. In his panic, Keith had thrown his phone across the room. He scrambled to retrieve it, desperate to message back.

 

Keith> So, when are we meeting?

Keith> And where?

 

He sighed nervously and ran a hand through his already messy hair, anxiety beginning to well up in his stomach. Keith sucked a breath in through his clenched teeth, mind racing with sudden doubts and _what if_ s. His phone buzzed.

 

Lance> can i pick you up at 5?

Keith> Yeah, sure, that’s fine. Need my address?

Lance> you know it. send it my way?

Keith> [ _ATTACHMENT ADDED_ ]

Keith> See you then.

 

Keith’s heart fluttered wildly. After three years, _three_ , of pining after him, Keith finally had a date. _Perhaps,_ he considered, _I’ll have to try this patience thing more often._

 

///

 

 **_By about two_** , Lance had gotten both himself and Hunk calmed down enough to speak about the last night’s occurrences.

“So, Hunk, I want to talk to you about what happened,” Lance began, wringing his hands nervously and avoiding eye contact. “I know it was a lot, and it was probably really freaky, but I didn’t mean to scare you or even have any of that happen. You… _nobody_ was ever supposed to know about all this.” Hunk sighed deeply, setting down his third cup of coffee that afternoon.

“I know, Lance.” He turned to face Lance and his usually gentle gaze, while no less fond, was hardened. “I know that you never wanted me to find out. And I get that, I really do, but it still kinda hurts. I’ve known you for more of my life than not, Lance. I thought you could trust me.” Lance looked up, eyes locking with Hunk’s, filled with shock and unshed tears.

“No, no, Hunk, I do! I’d trust you with my life, you know that!”

“Then why didn’t you trust me with this?” Lance thought for a moment, teeth buried in his bottom lip. He stared down at his lap as if searching for an answer there. Hunk watched him patiently, wanting nothing more than to bring back to his friend’s face the smile that had always seemed to be present.

“I…” Lance sighed, expression tense and pained. “It isn’t you that I don’t trust, Hunk. It’s me. I don’t trust that if you got dragged into this mess, I could keep you safe. I couldn’t keep _mamá_ safe. Hell, I can hardly keep myself safe-”

“That didn’t look to be the case to me,” Hunk interrupted. Lance kept going.

“-so how can I expect to protect you?” Lance sighed and let his shoulders fall slack. “You’re so important to me, Hunk. I couldn’t- I don't know what I’d do if you got hurt because of me and what I do.” Lance looked up finally, searching Hunk’s face for something, he wasn’t sure what. Hunk opened and closed his mouth once or twice, considering his words, and eventually spoke.

“That isn’t fair.” Lance sucked in a breath to reply, but Hunk held a hand out. “No, listen. It isn’t fair of you to pin all of that on yourself. You cannot task yourself with protecting everyone, especially not at the cost of yourself. It isn’t fair to you. At the same time, this isn't fair to me. You don't get to make that decision for me. Clearly, I’ve gotten roped into this part of you regardless of if I knew about it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the sentiment, but I want you to be able to rely on me as much as I rely on you.” Hunk let out a breath, his body relaxing somewhat. “So, let me be there for you, okay?” Tears welled up in Lance’s eyes and he nodded.

“Alright.”

 

///

 

 _**Shortly after the** _ kiss-and-make-up conversation between himself and his friend on whom he may or may not be developing a teensy-tiny crush, Hunk was informed that Lance would be going out tonight and he was welcome to stay as long as he liked, so long as when he left Lance’s house, he took one of Lance’s concealable weapons with him.

Lance had spent the next two hours showing Hunk how to properly conceal a weapon so that is wasn’t noticeable by even a trained eye, how to draw the weapon and aim it quickly, and expressed with great intensity the importance of having the safety on. Lance then emptied the magazine and set the weapon on safety and ran Hunk through a few practices where he was to use what Lance taught him.

Lance had to alter some things, as Hunk was bigger than himself and not quite so quick, but by the end of the short lesson, Hunk could conceal his weapon, draw and aim at a moment’s notice, and holster it quickly. He’d already had plenty of practice firing weapons, as Hunk and Lance had kept up the habit of visiting the range every so often, though Hunk understood the reason now.

“Alright, Hunk. Perfect. Thank you for agreeing to this,” Lance smiled. “It makes me feel better that you have another way to protect yourself, especially now that I’ve roped you into all this.” Hunk tucked the weapon safely away.

“No problem, Lance. It makes sense, to have the extra knowledge. So, uh, thanks for teaching me.” He grinned at his friend. “It means a lot, that you want me safe.” Lance huffed a laugh under his breath, as though any premonition otherwise was nothing more than a jayus. _Of course_ , he wants Hunk safe. Hunk is his best friend. He’d do anything for him. Instead of saying all that, however, Lance settled for,

“Anytime, Hunk.” And he meant it.

 

///

 

 _ **Lance had little**_ more than an hour to ready himself for the date with Keith. He rushed a bit, washing his face and slathering on a mask to let dry while he searched his closet for a suitable outfit. He debated, for a moment, asking Hunk to help as he’d done so many times before, but dismissed the idea. He’d already asked so much of the man in the last twenty-four hours. Eventually, Lance picked something out, something fashionable but casual. The classic trying-not-to-try-too-hard look that he always seemed to make work.

The outfit was simple, really, and if you didn’t know, you’d never guess that each article was, at the least, a good fifty dollars. From the sixty-four dollar snapback with an outer space design that had a striking blue hue to the not-too-baggy tank top and the thick blue flannel that hunk open over it to the distressed jeans that hugged his hips just right. His pristine high-tops alone were around 150 smackers. Pidge lovingly addressed the outfit as the “2008 fuckboy look” and while Lance had to agree, he looked no less attractive in it.

Lance peeled away the face mask, wiping away its remnants with a warm towel. He rubbed some tinted lotion over his soft, radiant face. Lance decided on makeup today; nothing too fancy. He used foundation and concealer and powder, contoured his face to sharpen his nose and jawline and cheekbones only slightly. He darkened his eyebrows and highlighted his cheeks. He darkened and glossed his lips faintly and sprinkled a minute amount of glittery, golden eyeshadow over his eyelids, illuminating his blue eyes like a pair molten sapphires.

Satisfied, Lance smacked his lips together in a smirk and shrugged on his favorite bomber jacket. He slipped a small, silenced pistol into a holster at the small of his back, swiped his keys, bid Hunk goodbye and left the house. Lance fired up his expensive car and his free navigation app to be on his way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOH ITS GETTIN' HEAVY,  
> ;;;0000

**_While Lance had_ ** been powdering his nose calmly for an hour, Keith had been panicking for around three. He’d had no clue, not a single inclination, on how to dress for this date with Lance. He frowned. He knew what he _wanted_ to wear, for the most part, but would Lance be okay with that? Keith frowned. He’d never seen any reason why Lance _wouldn’t_ be fine with Keith’s choice of attire. When he’d first tried it junior year, Lance hadn’t so much as blinked when they argued as usual. Keith groaned, nearly tearing out his hair in frustration. Maybe he’d just text Lance and ask.

 

Keith> Hey, Lance, I was wondering what I should wear tonight?

 

 _No, wait,_ Keith deleted the message without sending it, _that sounds too… desperate. Or something. Whatever, I’ll just ask Shiro._ Keith huffed and sat, opening a separate message.

 

Keith> Shiro, help me out.

Shiro> What is it? Are you okay?

Keith> Absolutely not. I have a date.

Shiro> Oh. OH. With who?

Keith> Unimportant. I need your help, though. Can you come over? He’s supposed to be here at five.

Shiro> I’ll be there in a sec.

 

Keith chuckled. Shiro had meant that literally, of course, as he lived two doors over. Within seconds, a sharp knock sounded from the door.

“It’s open!” He shouted. Shiro came in. “Hey, man, I need some help,” he greeted, not bothering to turn away from the closet he was rustling through. “I’m not sure if I should wear _the outfit_ or not. What do you think?” Keith pulled a low-cut top and a short skirt out of his closet and turned around, pressing them to his body to display how they would look.

“Hm, not that one. Did he tell you if you should dress up or not?” Keith shook his head.

“He didn’t mention anything about it. I’m going for not-too-casual, but not terribly overdressed.” He set the outfit down, digging around for a different one.

“Try red,” Shiro suggested. “You know that dark red skirt you wore to the club the night I threw up on your doormat? Pair that with the florally patterned fishnet stockings and the tight black top you wear under your red button up. Tie your scarf around your wrist, the left one, instead of your neck and wear a tattoo choker with the planet pendant. Wear dark grey eyeshadow with a little bit of dark purple-- not too much-- in a semi-smokey look and the bright red lipstick, the _Popping Poppy_ one. Tie it together with either the red pumps or the maroon flats. Probably the flats, since you don’t know if you’ll be walking or not.” Keith blinked at him.

“How do you even know all of that?” He asked in a whisper. Shiro shrugged.

“Allura likes to watch runway shows. And practice them. I get involved.”

Keith dismissed it and turned back to gather the garments Shiro had mentioned. How had he even remembered that skirt? Keith was sure the man had been blackout drunk that day.

Keith wasted no time in donning his attire, twisting and turning in front of the mirror to be sure he was perfect. He decorated his eyes with the pigmented powder and his favorite mascara. He colored his lips, smiling at the rich color. He twirled in a circle, admiring the way his skirt fanned out. Finally, as a last-minute touch, Keith pulled his hair back into a loose braid or that it was wide and swayed when he turned his head. Keith whispered an encouragement to himself before facing Shiro.

“So, how do I look?” Keith asked, wanting to bury his teeth in his lip but unwilling to smudge his perfect lipstick. Shiro smiled proudly.

“Stunning.”

 

///

 

 **_Lance turned the_ ** corner, cruising down the dimly lit street to the apartment that Keith had indicated. He put the car in park and pulled out his phone, sending Keith a quick text.

Lance> im here ;)

 

He smiled, a slight sigh escaping his lips, and waited for Keith to come downstairs.

 

///

 

 **_Keith yelped a_ ** bit when his phone went off, a bit tense out of anxiety and excitement. Shiro glanced up at him from his book with a quirked eyebrow.

“He’s here! Oh, Jesus, he’s here. Okay, hah,” Keith panicked. Shiro smiled at him.

“Calm down, Keith. I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’ll be floored. What’s his name, anyway?” Keith smiled, thinking on Lance’s radiant face and brilliant smile.

“Lance. Lance McClain.”

 

///

 **_Keith realized now_ ** that he had made a mistake. As soon as the words left Keith’s lips, he saw the dawning recognition on Shiro’s face.

“Oh, Keith… You couldn’t have picked _anyone else_?” He asked, looking sympathetic and remorseful. Keith frowned.

“What are you talking about?” Shiro sighed. In a blink, Shiro had a gun drawn on Keith, one Keith hadn’t known Shiro had had to begin with.

“You know, you’re like a brother to me. This is for your own good.”

“Wha-”

_Bang._

 

///

 

 **_Lance felt more_ ** than heard the gunshot. What he _did_ hear, though, was the pained scream that could only have come from Keith. _He’d been shot_ . Lance was out of his car in an instant, a knife hidden in his boot, his pistol in his waistband, pressed against the small of his back, another pistol in a more obvious holster on his thigh, and a switchblade in his jacket pocket. Taking the stairs two at a time, he found the apartment he’d seen a light on the inside of. _Keith._

Lance leaned back and put all of his power into landing a solid kick on the door, right beside the lock. The ratty old apartment door never stood a chance.

“Keith!” He shouted turning the corner with his gun out in front of him. He came face to face with Takashi Shirogane, who stood across the room and held a rather bloody Keith against a chair with the muzzle of the gun against Keith’s head, still hot and singeing his hair. “Takashi. What are you doing here?”

“I live a few doors down. When I heard who Keith was heading out with, I just _had_ to see you again. How have you been, Leoncio?” Lance scowled.

“So that’s what you've been up too, after dropping off the grid for a year? You hooked up with another gang?”

“Who’s to say I didn't start one of my own, hm?” Lance scoffed.

“A year and a half is hardly enough time to pull together an entire empire. And besides, you don’t think I would've heard by now? What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t keep tabs on my rivals?” Lance tilted his head to the side. “So, Takashi-”

“Shiro.”

“-Who’d you hook up with?” Lance asked, false friendliness in his tone. Shiro scowled and had at least the decency to look abashed. Lance’s face lit up. “Oh, no way. _No way!_ Oh, this is just _precious_! You hooked up with my _sister_?” Lance laughed openly, narrowed eyes never leaving Shiro’s flushed face. “Unbelievable. My sister takes off and starts up something on her own, all butthurt over _mamá_ , and then drags _you_ of all people out of the Galran gutters!” Keith, for his part, was rather confused by the goings-on at present. He was fairly sure Lance was here. He knew he’d been shot, and he knew Shiro had shot him, but he didn’t know where exactly. His left arm seemed kinda warm, he supposed. _No,_ he mused. _It’s more like fire. Low burning fire. Slow roasting my arm, like how mom used to make Christmas ham. I miss mom._ Keith felt too tired to keep his head up, instead of letting it roll to the side and rest upon his uninjured shoulder.

He heard another gunshot, distantly. It sounded as though it was heard from the opposite end of the Grand Canyon, far away but echoing throughout his skull like a wayward ping-pong ball. He wondered if Lance was okay. His query was answered soon enough by the sudden lack of presence behind him and Lance’s tan face in front of his. Long, slender fingers cupped his cheeks and he nuzzled into the warmth.

“Keith? Hey, stay with me, come on. Stay awake, Keith.” Keith didn’t hear much of it, only the way Lance said his name and the lovely little accent pouring over his full lips.

“Pretty,” Keith mumbled, his tongue suddenly feeling heavy in his mouth and his eyesight blurry. As if from underwater, Keith heard Lance mutter a string of words that were certainly not in English, but he couldn’t remember what language it _was_. The last thing he knew was that he was lifted into strong, toned arms and carried away.


	5. Chapter 5

**_When Keith woke_ ** , the last place he expected to be was in a rather luxurious car. His mind was muddled and hazy, and his head throbbed like it had been in the wrong place when Thor summoned his mighty hammer, Mjölnir. He groaned and moved to sit upright, only for a sharp pain in his left arm to stop him short with a pained yelp.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re a little messed up at the moment.” Keith groaned again, mentally fighting his way through miles of cotton-candy that was more like fiberglass insulation. Pink and fluffy and soft, but it stung like Hell when it got under your skin.

“Lance?” Keith managed, his voice hoarse and rough. “God, what the hell happened?”

“Yeah, about that… Your buddy Shiro? He’s kind of in a mob that's a little bit hellbent on providing my head on a pike. You wound up in the crossfire. So, my bad. Sorry about that. You got shot.”

“Oh, yeah, right. Shot. Like with a gun?”

“Yeah. With a gun. I tied your arm up with that scarf of yours, sorry. I had to keep you from losing any more blood.” Keith nodded absently and immediately regretted doing so when it only seemed to generate more cotton-candy-insulation in his brain. He suddenly felt parched. His tongue, which seemed heavy before, was now super-glued to the roof of his mouth.

“Water?” He rasped. Lance seemed to get the message anyway, producing a fresh bottled water and passing it to Keith. 

“Figured you might be a little thirsty. You kind of bled out for a while.”  _ How long is a while? _ Keith wondered, guzzling down water faster than he expected himself to. He panted lightly and fiddled with the drained bottle in his hands. His left hand wasn’t working as well as normal, like there was extra insulation between his brain and that part of his body. 

“M’arm,” he mumbled. Keith was sure Lance had said something about his less-than-functional arm, but couldn’t quite remember what.

“You were shot.”

“Oh. Like-”

“With a gun, yes. Try and keep up here, Keith.”

“Sorry,” Keith apologized. Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s fine. We’re almost home, Keith. I’ll have you patched up in no time.”

 

///

 

**_Shiro bit down_ ** hard on the rolled up cloth between his teeth. Coran had offered him anesthetic, of course, but Shiro swore up and down that he didn’t need it, that they should save it for someone who did. Coran tugged sharply at the bullet lodged in his side. It had taken only a half hour or so for Allura’s team to find him, sprawled on the floor of Keith’s bloodied apartment with a door hanging off its hinges. Shiro had been taken back to HQ immediately, and Coran was made to dismiss all other duties in favor of treating him.

“So, Shiro, how’d you end up in this particular predicament?” Shiro grunted as the bullet finally came free and Coran hurriedly pressed a cloth over the now-gushing wound, telling Shiro to hold it. Shiro pressed down on the cloth, a dull ache and sharp pain spreading through his abdomen all at once.

“Allura’s brother.”

“She has three, you know. Which?” It was an unnecessary question. They both knew Coran was well aware of who Shiro meant.

“Lance,” he said anyway. “He was going to take a friend of mine out for a date, I figured I’d snag him. It didn’t go well.”

“No, I suppose it didn’t. Allura herself has gone up against Lance in the past, you know. Both of them emerged with a handful of scars to show for it. Why, even this lad here has had the pleasure of meeting young Lance in battle! He’s certainly the most talented of Allura’s brothers. I’ve no shortage of scars from the little bugger, myself, even from his childhood. The boy always could run.” Coran chuckled. “He’d have me knocking my head against corners and knees against table legs.”

Shiro hummed. “Why does Allura hate him so much, do you think?” Coran stilled in his movements, hesitating for just long enough to get a pitiful look in his eyes before he was back at his work of sewing Shiro up like a ragdoll.

“She blames him for their mother, I think. She won’t admit it, and neither will their sister Veronica, but the two of them blamed Lance for the tragedy. His brother Marco was really the only one of the bunch to stand by him for any amount of time, but he and his twin brother vanished long ago. Allura blames Lance for that, too. Now, she looks for every reason she can to attack him, and won’t stop until he’s captured or dead.” Coran turned, swapping his bloodied gloves for another pair and gently wiping away the blood on Shiro’s skin with a damp towel. He held a gauze pad over the stitches and laid a bandage over the top, wrapping it carefully but firmly over the top, and secured it in place. Neither man made a sound for a long couple of minutes until Coran spoke again.

“I think she’ll regret it deeply if Lance dies, and even more so if by her hand. She doesn’t realize it through her anger, but Allura couldn’t bear to lose any more family. Have you any love for her in your heart, Shiro,” Coran clasped Shiro’s shoulder gently, “you will not let her travel that road.”

 

///

 

**_Water is the_ ** most infuriating, frustrating thing in all of existence, save perhaps for fiberglass insulation and cotton candy. Keith much preferred fire, and for obvious reason. Fire was bright, obvious, and to the point. Water was thick, it changed things and bent perception. Water surrounded him and filled his mouth and muffled his shouts of protest. Water suffocated him and dragged him down and instead of being afraid to drown, Keith became angry at the water for drowning him. Fire was fast, scorching. Fire made a statement, left a mark. Water erased. Erased words and actions and time and whole worlds, even. Keith much preferred fire.

So it’s understandably frustrating to be awoken by a cold splash of the hellish substance over his face. Keith gasped suddenly, sputtering and coughing. The jostling sent lightning bolts of pain through his arm.

“What the fuck?” He croaked, rubbing his eyes and immediately regretting it when his hands came back smudged with mascara and eyeshadow. He must look like a drowned raccoon. Someone cleared their throat in front of him.

“Sorry about that, Keith. I couldn’t get you awake any other way, and I would rather not slap you unless necessary.” Keith scowled. 

“This,” he began, “is the worst date I have ever been on, hands down.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Do you want a shower? I’d take you back home, but, well, I don’t think it’s  _ safe _ , so…” Lance trailed off. Keith groaned, dropping his head against a soft pillow.

 

///

 

**“Tell me what** happened,” Keith demanded. He cradled his injury without touching it, as though to shield it from any more harm. It was neatly bandaged, barely a spot of red visible through the gauze. “Who did this?” Keith looked up at Lance.

“Um,” Lance started eloquently. “Your friend did. Shiro. He, uh, when I got to your apartment I heard the gunshot and I got upstairs and he had shot you. And then he tried to shoot  _ me, _ so  _ I _ shot  _ him _ . It was basically a lot of shooting. The end result is, I took you back here and patched you up, with some help, and I’ve no idea what happened to him.” Keith blinked. 

“Uh-huh… And, why did Shiro shoot me?” Lance bit his lip.

“Probably because he knew you were going out with  _ me _ .”

“What does that have to do with it?” Keith wondered. Lance looked increasingly uncomfortable with every second.

“I have… a history with him. Now, he’s associated with some people who I  _ also _ have a history with. Long-story-short, he despises me in every way and so does the person he’s working with.” Lance fiddled with the hem of his shirt, refusing to meet Keith’s eyes. 

“Huh.” Keith closed his eyes, laying flat on his back with his good arm over his smudged eyes. “Well, I don’t know what to do with this information just yet, or how I feel about  _ you _ currently, but I, for one, am  _ starving _ and  _ parched. _ What do you have to eat around here?”


End file.
